Chapter 21

Aldburg, July the 10th, 3018

In his head, Éomer had envisioned that moment at least a thousand times, his longing for Lothíriel slowly eating away what little self-restraint he possessed until he couldn't have waited any longer. But with her being so young and innocent, he had always assumed their first kiss would be a slow burn, a timid touch of yearning lips, a dance in which he'd take the lead and show her the way.

How wrong he had been!

After an initial moment of hesitation, Lothíriel responded to his fervent touch with such bold fierceness, that he almost groaned when he felt her lips parting, her hands sliding into his hair. He pulled slightly back then – not because he had had enough of her, never!, but rather because he needed to look at her, he needed to see what colour her eyes were, he needed to see his desire mirrored in her gaze. And when orbs as green as emeralds looked back at him, dazzled and unfocused, Éomer almost felt like choking: "Welcome home", he whispered, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Lothíriel stared at him, her lips curving in a smile one moment only to recede to a surprised and almost grave look the next, like her brain could not decide what feeling prevailed. And then there was a tremor shaking her body, a strangled gasp. Next thing he knew, he was stumbling back, trying to regain his balance after she had hurled herself into his arms. His legs banged into his desk, causing a jar of ink to fall with a plop on the rug-covered ground. He couldn't care less though, for her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, her teeth nibbling on his lips. Had he that uttered the breathy moan echoing in his ears? Or had it been her? He did not know. Lothíriel's hand grew bold, roaming wild across his chest, leaving not one single inch of regrettably clothed skin untouched. Her breath itched when he traced the softness of her breasts, her head flinging back in enraptured, blissful abandon.

"… Éomer…". Her voice was little more than a feeble whimper. It fuelled his desire, banned any reasonable thinking from his head. He'd have her: right here, right now! "… I-I've missed you…".

His eyes flew open, his hands froze: "What did you just say?".

Lothíriel tore her half-closed eyes from the ceiling and looked at him, her breath coming in short little gasps, her hands clutching at the thin fabric of his shirt: "I said I've missed you. Terribly".

Éomer could not explain what happened then. All he knew was that all of a sudden, his body was rocked by something far deeper and more powerful than his desire for her. His hands crept up her back to cup her face: gently, reverently almost. "You have no idea how much I've missed you too", he told her, raining kisses on her flushed cheeks. "At night, I'd toss in my bed cursing every mile of land that dared standing between us. And at day, I'd spend most of my time staring helplessly out of the window, hoping to catch sight of an incoming party, ready to rush out of the hall so that for once I could be the one welcoming you back home. This place is so dreadfully empty without you…".

A sob escaped Lothíriel's lips. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and even without looking at her, Éomer knew she was smiling: "We are such fools. For how long have we been chasing each other? Me too afraid to take the first step towards you, and you too bloody honourable to do the same?".

Éomer considered carefully her question: "Would it scare you if I told you it's been since that night in your room, when you awoke from three days of unconsciousness and the first thing you asked me was whether we had found Dúnor?".

"No, it would not". She looked up at him, all traces of laughter gone: "I'd choose you, you know? If I could go back in time to before our marriage was being arranged, and somebody showed me this handsome man of Rohan and what he'd come to mean to me if only I gave him a chance, I'd choose you", she said resting her palm above his throbbing heart. "I'd chose you over any other man and I'd chose you over the prospect of a life in Dol Amroth".

Éomer could swear his heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words. And there was so much he wanted to tell her: that he felt the same way too; that he'd go through any hardship just to ensure she'd be his for the rest of their lives; that any moment they spent apart felt like wandering in a flooded cave, and light and air would only return to him the moment they'd be finally reunited. But the words were caught in his throat and not one sound came from his gaping mouth. Yet he needed to let her know! So he raised a hand to mirror hers, placed it on her heart and prayed Oromë and all the gods she'd understand what he was trying to tell her.

When Lothíriel's face broke into a beaming smile, his knees almost gave out. He held her tight against his chest and soon, her ringing laughter was filling the room: "What's with you Rohirrim always trying to crush me with your hugs?", she teased him, though her own arms were locked around his neck and she made no attempt to escape his embrace.

"Someone else has been giving you crushing hugs?".

"Lady Aldwyn. Runhild. Wilrun. Éothain. Give him a couple of years to grow stronger, and then Dúnor will start too!".

"Éothain?".

"Yes. I crossed him while on my way to the hall and the moment he saw me, he rushed towards me, dragged me down my horse, almost squeezed me to death and babbled something about how happy he was to see me back. I think I should mention he seemed – and smelled, totally drunk. Had it not been for Elfda who came to my rescue and roughed him up, I'd be still there trying to get rid of him!".

Éomer nodded, satisfied: "Serves Éothain right for all the misery he put me through these past few days".

"Why? What did he do?".

"He found greatly amusing that I couldn't stand this place without you. And because I was foolish enough to try denying it, at some point the other day he barged in here announcing you had been spotted approaching the gates. I rushed out, barked at Meregith that she better have your welcome cup ready, sprinted outside only to realize he had been pranking me".

Lothíriel laughed softly. She pressed a kiss on the side of his neck, her lips lingering upon his skin in a touch that had every single muscle in his body trembling. Did she know the effect she had on him, he wondered?

"What if I told you I know of a way to get back at him?".

His hands glided over her sides: "I'm all ears".

"While we were in Edoras, together with Lady Aldwyn's granddaughters we had a few drinks too many at the Hammer. Éothain was there too and I overheard him talking about a wager he made with the owner of some tavern here in Aldburg".

"The Green Gate, most likely".

"Could be. Anyway, the wager happened to involve us…".

Éomer groaned because the idea of a gambling drunken Éothain did not bode well: "What has the idiot done this time?".

"From what I could gather, he was out drinking when an argument ensued between him and the innkeeper. Éothain declared it was only a matter of days before – and I quote, those two will be ripping each other's clothes off, while the innkeeper was convinced that because I'm a prude Gondorian, it would have taken us months to get anywhere near that point. So, they made a bet: were we to become sort of, how to say… intimate", she said waving adorably her hand in the air, "before the end of this month, then Éothain would win and as a prize, he'll be granted free, unlimited ale for an entire month…".

"That might just send any tavern bust".

"Yes. And we don't want that, do we?".

Éomer narrowed his eyes: "What happens if he loses?".

"He'll have to work at the tavern for an entire week. And he'll have to do it – wait for it: dressed as a wench".

Éomer blinked. When it came to Éothain, he thought nothing could have possibly surprised him anymore but obviously, he had been deadly wrong about it: "Dressed as a wench?". Lothíriel nodded and it was painfully clear what she was aiming at: "So, you're saying we should keep our hands off each other for the next three weeks just so you can get to see Éothain wearing skirts?".

"Not always, only when we are in public…".

He didn't know why, but there was something madly enticing in the way she left the sentence unfinished. He bent her head back and kissed his way down her throat, the wild beating of her heart sending ripples of desire through his body: "Isn't that a little deceiving?".

"Perhaps", she answered breathlessly, "but it's for his own good. You always say he drinks too much…". She sucked in her breath when he pulled the hem of her dress a little lower, teasing and biting the smooth skin of her shoulders, his thumb trailing along the edge of her collar bone before sliding further down. Her body arched into his and appealing to the last pinch of rational thinking left within him, Éomer realized he ought to stop right now or else, he would not be able to stop at all.

He kissed his way upwards, teased her earlobe with a soft, quick nip: "I have a surprise for you", he told her, his trembling fingers struggling to fix her dress. "It's in the solar. Would you like to see it?".

Lothíriel looked up at him with those big green-grey eyes like she could not understand what was happening and why all of a sudden he had stopped lavishing her with attentions. She wished him to be less bloody honourable, that much was clear. And maybe he wished that too but at the same time, he refused to do it: he refused to hand up her skirt already, he refused to take her in a surge of unrestrained lust mere moments after having tasted her kisses for the very first time. Because – Éomer realized, even more compelling than that lust, was the overwhelming desire to simply hold her close to his heart and never let her go.

"Come with me".

He took her hand and smiling like a fool, he walked – run almost, out of his study and up the stairs leading to the upper floor. When they reached the solar, he stopped for a brief moment before pushing the door open, already savouring what Lothíriel's reaction would be and… empty! The couch on which he had left her surprise was empty! Éomer looked frantically around but upon feeling Lothíriel's inquisitive eyes fixed on him, he tried to pull himself together: "You… have to find it! I've hidden your surprise, of course!".

Though obviously puzzled by his odd behaviour, Lothíriel entered the room and started looking around. The moment she gave him her back, Éomer dropped on his knees and searched the floor, then the chairs, then the sofa, then the sill… the sill! Trying not to look in panic, he rushed to the window: thank goodness it was closed! He sighed in relief and it was then that his eye fell on his saddlebag – which he had forgotten in a corner beside the hearth, stirring almost imperceptibly. As taken as she was with opening every single cabinet in the room, Lothíriel didn't notice anything at all and when she run out of furniture to check on, she predictably shifted her attention to the bookshelves.

His feet tapping nervously on the floor, Éomer observed her scrolling through possibly every single tome stored in there: "It's not a book!", he pointed out exasperated.

Lothíriel shot him a vexed look: "If you have no patience for waiting until I find the surprise you've hidden, then perhaps you shouldn't have hidden it in the first place! At least give me a hint", she said peeping inside a vase, "of the size of what I'm look…". She stopped, her eyes darting suspiciously around: "Wait, did you hear that?".

"No", he lied with a deadpan face.

She frowned and walked to the hearth: "You wouldn't hide something in here, would you?", she asked, leaning with half of her body inside. The sound came again then, this time louder and clearer than before. The strap of his saddlebag bounced and Lothíriel jumped back, one trembling finger pointing at the floor: "It moved!".

Éomer couldn't help a smug grin: "Did it now? Perhaps you should check what's inside…".

Lothíriel took a cautious step towards his bag, only to hastily retreat as it shook again: "If you've hidden something gross in there…".

"Gross?".

"Yes! Like a giant bug, or a mouse!".

A giant bug. Or a mouse. Honestly, he didn't know whether to groan or to laugh: "Bema Lothíriel, I'm your husband, not one of your stupid brothers playing a prank on you!".

She cast him a murderous look – one that said I'll kill you if you are lying, and reluctantly lifted the strap of his bag. She looked inside and gasped, falling shortly afterwards on her knees. Yes, that was more the reaction he had expected to see!

Lothíriel couldn't resist those two big blue eyes staring back at her. Mindful not to do any sudden movement, she sneaked her hands inside the bag and as gently as she could, she pulled out the tiniest, most adorable kitten she had ever seen. She hugged her to her chest and was immediately rewarded with a determined meow, but also with a familiar, soothing sound. "Did you get her for me?", she asked, tears already prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Éomer sat beside her, a broad smile lightening his face: "Of course I did. I know you miss Bathor and were it possible, I'd go get him for you. But since it isn't, I thought…". He never got to finish the sentence, for she crawled into his arms and took his face in her hands. She kissed him then. She kissed him for all she was worth and almost laughed at herself for how torn and horribly insecure she had felt about that moment. A part of her had longed for it, craved for Éomer's touch in a way she herself had found it hard to understand. Another had dreaded it, because - just like Lady Aldwyn had said, Éomer had a certain reputation and really, what could a man like him find in someone like her? But in the end, all her worries had dissolved into thin air the moment he had swept her in his arms, his kisses as fierce and warm as that feeling blossoming in her chest she had not dared naming yet. Her hands slid to cup his neck and for some reason, she started sobbing. It wasn't a hurtful cry though, but rather a wondrously liberating one. All the heartbreak of the past seven months converged into that one instant: their marriage; their mutual hatred; Dúnor and those wargs; waking up in Aldburg and realizing she did not know who she was and what she should do with her life; the ambush and breaking down in front of Éomer; Grima's threat. It had not been for nothing - none of it, for it had led them there, it had brought them together!

Éomer sat her in his lap, his hand rubbing gently her back. "Had I known a kitten would have made you cry so, I'd have gone for the giant bug instead", he teased her. He pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose and Lothíriel almost started sobbing all over again: "Are you alright?".

She nodded and even managed a watery smile: "Yes. Just a little overwhelmed". She nestled the kitten between them and scratched her chin, her purring growing incredibly loud for the wee little thing that she was: "I never told you how Bathor came into my life, have I?".

"No, you have not".

"After my mother died, my family almost fell apart. Father was devastated and though he tried to be there for us, the first weeks after she passed away were… difficult. He spent most of his days locked in his study, while my brothers found each their own way to deal with their pain. Elphir sailed away, Erchirion moved to Minas Tirith where my cousin Faramir took him under his wing and Amrothos – who was still very young at the time, took to spending his days practicing his sword skills. I suppose keeping themselves busy and as far as possible from all those places which could have reminded them of our mother, helped them coping with her loss. But I was just a child, I had nowhere to go and all of a sudden, my mother was gone and so was the rest of my family. It was during those days that I stumbled upon Bathor and I know it may sound silly to speak so of a cat, but if it wasn't for him – and for Gaeril, I never would have made it. Bathor had this gift, like he could sense my mood better than anybody else, and his purring always had this strange, healing effect on me".

"What happened then?".

"Father realized he had to do something or else, we'd lose each other. He called Elphir and Erchirion back to Dol Amroth and took us on a trip. He let us decide where to go and what to do, but always at one condition: that we'd stick together. We spent an entire month sailing and exploring corners of Belfalas we had never even heard about and when at last we returned home, we found the strength and the will to move forward. Together".

Lothíriel paused, a wave of sudden melancholy hitting her right in the chest. As if willing to prove she lacked nothing of Bathor's perceptiveness, the kitten's purring intensified. She rubbed her nose against her thumb and climbed her chest until she had reached the tail of her braid.

"I know what the little rascal wants", chuckled Éomer. He pulled the black leather band that held her braid in place and the moment the kitten laid eyes on it, her pupils dilated. She jumped clumsily down her legs and started chasing it, toppling every now and then but always getting promptly back on her feet.

Resting with her arms wrapped tight around Éomer's chest, Lothíriel found there was something so profoundly peaceful about that moment. The two of them sitting together on the cold stone floor. Her missing boots and damp clothes. The fine drizzle tickling against the solar's windows. Éomer's amusement when the kitten rolled on her back to engage his hand in a vicious fight. "I never took you for a cat person".

"I never knew I was one. But then earlier today I was visiting a nearby farm and all of a sudden, I see this little thing marching towards me, meowing as if to say it was high time you finally showed up! Even Firefoot was unusually friendly and well-disposed, why he didn't even complain when she started playing with his mane!".

"You had to ride with her?".

"Yes. I put her in my saddlebag and to be honest, she slept most of the time. I brought her here, I fed her, and I was even foolish enough to give her a bath".

"No, you didn't…".

Éomer rolled up his sleeve and sure enough, his forearm was a crisscross of scratches: "I did and I can already tell you two things. One: she hates water. And two: she has needles in her paws, not claws!".

"Of course she does, she's a cat!".

Éomer laughed, but his mirth was short lived as he cast her an unusually doubtful look: "The woman who gave her to me was quite sceptical, you know. When I told her I intended to gift the kitten to my wife, she urged me to reconsider my choice towards a prettier cat, so if you don't like her…".

"The woman had no idea what she was talking about or simply disliked torties because she knows no better".

"Torties?".

"Tortoiseshell, cats combining at least two colours other than white. I always thought them adorable, but then again: I like all four-legged purring animals, so my opinion is hardly any relevant". She took the leather band from his hand and tried waving it around, but the kitten seemed no longer interested in it, her attention now fully focused on her feet: she approached them cautiously, gave them a wary sniff and then, in a display of outraged disgust, she stuck her tongue out and run away roaring like she was a little lion, causing Éomer to almost topple with laughter.

Lothíriel pulled an offended face and made for standing up.

"Where do you think you are going?".

"To have a bath since someone find my state of cleaning obviously lacking – not to mention amusing!".

With seemingly no effort at all, Éomer pinned her down: "Not on my watch", he declared.

Lothíriel briefly entertained the idea of putting into practice Elfda's teachings and give Éomer a lesson he'd likely remember for the rest of his days. But when she looked up at him, her belligerence grew instantly faint: his hands were locked around her wrists, his thighs were wedging her legs apart and his eyes… his eyes were dark, deep pools, staring back at her in a way that sent a rush of heat coursing through her veins. For a moment, time seemed to hold still, the world around them erased by the feeling of Éomer's tense, warm body. He drew closer and when at long last his lips touched hers, his kiss proved so unlike their earlier ones: slow, tender, considerate almost. Even after he had released her wrists, his hands remained quiet, there was no frantic touching and groping. One twisted lock at a time, he unbound her braid: "That night in Edoras", he spoke in her ear, his voice hoarse and raspy, "in my sleep I must have pulled you to me and when I awoke you were there, sleeping in my arms...". He dove his nose into her hair, his fingers scratching her scalp. "… you don't know how much I wanted this… you… how much I wanted to kiss you awake and…".

"You did not…".

"No, for I wasn't sure how you'd have reacted. But you have no idea what it costed me to get out of that bed…".

"No, I mean…", Lothíriel swallowed, struggling to utter even the simplest coherent sentence, "… you did not… pull me… it was me, I came to you…".

Éomer propped himself up on one elbow and looked down her, his head tilted on one side: "You did?".

"Yes", she admitted. She pulled him down to her - partly because she wanted him to continue whatever it was that he was doing, and partly because there was no way she could say what she had to say with him staring at her that way. "I could not sleep knowing you so close. And then you became restless – you were having a nightmare I believe, so I moved closer to you and…".

"… and?".

"…and I kissed your brow", she said brushing a finger there where her lips had first touched his skin, "and I too wanted to wake you up, but did not dare. And then the next day we parted, and I know I should have done or said something, but I just could not…".

"Hush little one", he silenced her, his tongue tracing the curve of her lower lip, "the only thing that matter is that we are here now. And let me assure you, I have every intention to make up for the time we lost and especially", he added with devilish grin, "to even our scores after you took so shamelessly advantage of me".

It took her a moment to register the meaning of those words: "Éomer!", she shrieked. "I did not take…".

"You kissed me while I was sleeping, while I was as defenceless as a lamb. I call that taking advantage", he declared, and she had to give him that he managed to keep a straight face for long enough for her to blush furiously before collapsing on top of her, shaking with laughter. He rolled on his back and took her with him, holding her tight so she could not escape him: "Just so we are clear: you can take advantage of me any time you want. In fact, I'd encourage you to do so".

In spite of her embarrassment, Lothíriel found herself giggling: "I'll keep that in mind".

She sighed contently and for a while, they let the kitten's antic entertain them.

"So how did it go?", asked Éomer, "Did you enjoy your time with Lady Aldwyn in the Westfold?".

"A lot. We went out riding and as promised, she had me spending a great deal of time in the caves. Have you ever been there, Éomer?".

"Not, but I've seen other ones".

"I found them so fascinating, a place unlike anything else. Walking through those deep tunnels was humbling, and thrilling, and scary all at once! I could feel the mountains towering over me, their walls closing in on me like I was little more than an ant they could crush at any time. But at the same time, I was also awestruck by the way men found their way into those underground realms and look", she said pulling out of her pocket a brassy coloured stone on which sharp black crystals had grown like mountain flowers on rocky slopes, "I even got to extract an iron nugget!".

"You dug this out?".

"Yes! The stone itself is made of sulphur – hence the colour, while the dark crystals are magnetite, an iron mineral".

"I see you've become quite the expert".

"To me, rocks have always been just that: rocks. But there's a whole world of things to learn about them!".

Éomer smiled, obviously amused by her excitement: "What about your cousin's intelligence, will it help Lady Aldwyn?".

"She's positive it will. While we were in the Westfold, she had the drawings copied - so that I may keep the originals, and if it all goes well, latest by the end of the summer the mines shall be equipped with new – more efficient, infrastructures".

"That's good news".

"It is. What about you? Did you speak with Théodred? How did it go?".

At the simple mention of his cousin's name, Éomer's good mood seemed to evaporate like mist in the sun. "I did, but he could not be of much help", he said, his voice flat, his eyes staring blankly at the wall behind her. "He more or less told me there's nothing we can do, aside from holding out. And about Caerdydd, he was uncompromising: I need to appoint a new ealdorman as soon as possible and unless I find a better candidate, it'll have to be Elffa himself – whether he likes it or not".

"Perhaps your cousin is right, Éomer. I know you'd rather have Elffa back here, reunited with his wife and children. But his family can join him in Caerdydd and anyway, this could very well be a long-term solution, but not necessarily a permanent one. Once we'll get rid of Grima…".

"You think we'll ever get rid of him?".

He dropped the question almost casually and there was something in his stance, in his curved shoulders and hanging head, that had Lothíriel's heart tightening: "I know it's either him or us, and we are not going down". She stretched an arm to cup his face, but still Éomer avoided her eyes and it her hurt to see him so, it hurt her to see the likes of Grima chipping away his strength and spirit: "Back in Edoras, you remember what you told me? You said I should not worry because together, we got this. And guess what: you were right, Éomer!".

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her knuckles, a stretched smile twisting his lips: "Next week I'll ride to Caerdydd and speak with Elffa".

"And I shall come with you".

"There's no need…".

"There is", she silenced him. "I can't be at your side while you're out there patrolling, and I can't follow you into battle. There are so many things I can't help you with, so many situations where I cannot be there with you – for you. But this is not one of them: I can – and I will, ride with you to Caerdydd".

"It's not a pretty place, Lothíriel. And it won't be an easy talk".

"I know. That's why I want to be there with you. And before you ask", she added brushing a finger on his lips, "no, there's no way you can talk me out of it".

Éomer rolled his eyes and tried looking upset, but the dimples on his cheeks gave him easily away: "Aren't you bossy" he complained. He reached out to her and the moment his hand touched her arm, he almost recoiled: "Bema Lothíriel, you are freezing!".

Now that he mentioned it, she did feel a bit cold! "We've been riding in the rain for most of the day. It didn't feel too bad, actually – surely better than riding under a scorching sun. But perhaps I should have changed into dry clothes…".

Éomer helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders: "It's my fault, I shouldn't have kept you so long", he apologized rubbing vigorously her arms.

"I, for one, am glad you did. Really, it's not that bad…", she tried to say, but Éomer had none of it. He placed the kitten in her arms, turned her around and nudged her out of the door. Once there, he glanced furtively around before giving her one last, sweeping kiss: "I won't have you ill on my account. Go to your room, warm up, get a good night rest and meet me tomorrow morning in my study".

"And then you say I am the bossy one", she protested.

Left with little choice but to retire, Lothíriel bid him goodnight and headed towards her room. As she climbed down the stairs, she couldn't help but casting the kitten a disgruntled look: "I'm not that cold. We could have stayed a while longer in the solar…". Her furry companion responded with a loud meow – one she'd have gladly interpreted as a yes, you are right, if it weren't that it went on and on, growing steadily in both volume and urgency until every single soul in town had learned about her discontent: "Are you hungry?".

Another resolute mewing.

"Thought so". Lothíriel sprinted towards the kitchen but with most of the hall already asleep, she found there was nobody around who could help her: not Almód, not any of his assistants, not one maid. The kitten looked at her and this time, she sounded more like a cheeping chick: "Don't worry, I will find you something good to eat". She placed her on the table and started rooting around. The first thing she found was a piece of cured meat and seeing how its smell caught the kitten's interest, she judged it good choice. She cut it in small pieces but when she placed it in front of her, the kitten only gave it one sniff before turning away: "Aren't you a finicky eater! Give it a try at least!", she insisted, but it was a waste of breath. "Alright then, let's keep searching". She stepped on a stool and rummaged through the shelves, but all she came across were pickled vegetables and beans. She huffed in frustration and was so taken with hunting for food, that she did not hear the approaching steps, nor the door opening.

"What are you doing here?", spoke a stern voice behind her.

Lothíriel almost tripped down the stool: "Meregith, you scared me!".

The housekeeper barged into the kitchen and the moment she laid eyes on the kitten, something totally unexpected happened: her face broke into a smile – a genuine, sincere smile! "Who's this? Where did you find her?".

"Éomer brought her here. I think she's hungry, but I can't seem to find anything she likes".

When she saw the bits of cured meat, Meregith shook her head: "This is way too salty and spiced for such a young cat". She walked around the table, showed her where the eggs were stored, then fetched a small pan and lit a fire. She cooked thoroughly one egg, adding at the end a half spoon of thick cream: "Here, try feeding her this".

Lothíriel placed a tiny piece of egg on the tip of her finger and sure enough, the moment she put it in front of the kitten's nose, she devoured it in no time! "How did you know she'd have liked it so?".

"I have plenty of experience".

"How come?".

"Dawyn".

Lothíriel stiffened upon hearing that name, but Meregith didn't seem to notice it.

"Dawyn adored cats. I've lost count of how many stray kittens she brought here throughout the years, most of them famished and ill-looking. As she grew up however, she developed a condition that would make her terribly sick whenever cats were around".

"Like an allergy?".

"Yes. Her eyes would swell, she'd start sneezing and panting, she'd get rashes on her neck. There was no way she could keep a cat but anyway, she still adored them and every now and then, she'd find one in need of a rescue and knock at my door, looking like she was about to pass out, but still stubbornly pretending I take care of him – or her". As Meregith spoke, Lothíriel realized she was holding her breath, for that was a side of her she had never seen before. There was a great sadness in her old green eyes, but also, a frail, timid tenderness. "Have you given her a name already?".

"Not yet. I thought maybe Endien".

"Endien. Is it Elvish?".

"Quenya, the Ancient Speech. I don't speak it myself, but I once had a tutor who taught me a few words. Among them were the seasons: hesin for winter, ethuil for spring, laire for summer and endien for autumn. I thought it fitting, for her coat reminds me of the withering autumn leaves".

Meregith considered carefully her idea, mouthing the name over and over as if to test it: "Yes, I think it would fit her".

"That's decided then: you shall be Endien", she informed the kitten, who looked rather unimpressed by her choice and answered with a yawn which turned into an unexpected little burp. She and Meregith stared at each other for one silent moment before bursting out laughing: "I think I got the message. You are ready to go sleeping and to be honest, so am I".

"Go then. I saw Ides and Runhild drawing you a bath. It was a while ago but if you hurry, I'm sure you'll find the water to be still decently warm".

Lothíriel stood, her hand indulging briefly on the housekeeper's shoulder before she left the room. "Goodnight, Meregith. And thank you for your help".

Author's notes: little fluffy (in every way) chapter. In case it wasn't already clear: I am a devoted cat person! :)

almythea: glad you liked it!

rossui: thank you! They took their sweet time but finally, they came to their senses!

Katia0203: they really did! I had fun writing something different like the mining section and yes, Grima getting lost sounds like a great idea! Also: thank you for reviewing To Grow Into Love. I still have in mind to write a sequel, but at the moment I'm taken by this story and by another I have been thinking of. So, it'll probably come one day, just not too soon!

xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: sorry you found it so. Did you find it out of place form a story perspective or purely because of the way chapter was structured? At first I didn't want to add that last bit but then I thought that we had been too close too many times to those two getting somewhere, and a little spark before this chapter was out was needed.

ACH: always makes my day to read so! Adding side characters is fun and I always hope they give depth to the story.

Catspector: yes, Éomer really needed Théodred's "push" on that. He doesn't hesitate to scarify himself but he's reluctant at pretending the same from his men, yet at times it's sadly needed. Lothíriel has probably grown more in two months than she ever did before and is coming to see the difference she can make for the people of Rohan. And yes, finally a kiss and some long-awaited intimacy! I guess at times breaking one's word can be forgiven ;)

Menelwen: I think so too, she's young but also smart and sensitive, which will make her a great Queen one day. A mutual attraction has been building up in the past chapters and too many times they missed their chance at getting closer to each other, which brought Éomer to reaching his breaking point. As for the punch in the throat, of course she wouldn't! :)

Wondereye: thank you!

tgo62: I like that too! In different ways, man-made and natural ones are so deeply fascinating. And to think of how people ventured so far already hundreds (if not thousands) of years ago, with very limited means and in dangerous and precarious conditions, it's always impressive and quite inspiring.

SwaanKnightoftheNorth: he really couldn't have lasted any longer! :)